How Far I'll Go
by Phartiphukborlz
Summary: In this story, everything happened up until season 3 episode 12. Emma and Henry crossed the town line… only things didn't go as planned. Definitely CS, and most expected shipping's, with quite a few additions! I own nothing. There will be some violence and mature content in this fic. Hope you enjoy, and reviews are always welcome!
1. Chapter 1

**Title: How Far I'll Go**

 **In this story, everything happened up until season 3 episode 12. Emma and Henry crossed the town line… only things didn't go as planned. Definitely CS, and most expected shipping's, with quite a few additions! I own nothing.**

 **There will be some violence and mature content in this fic. Hope you enjoy, and reviews are always welcome!**

 **Chapter 1:**

'Twas a long time ago, longer now than it seems  
In a place that perhaps you've seen in your dreams.  
For the story that you are about to be told  
Began with the fairy tale worlds of old.

Now, you've probably wondered where fairy tales come from.  
If you haven't, I'd say it's time you begun.  
For fairy tales are the result of much fuss  
And hard work for the worlds that create them for us.  
Well, you see now, quite simply that's all that they do-  
Making one unique fairy tale, especially for you.  
But once, a calamity ever so great occurred  
When multiple realms met by mistake. 

* * *

"Oh look, another glorious morning." The witch groaned and rolled her eyes before slamming the window's shutters. "Makes me sick! Sisters!"

"Yes Winnie," Sarah called out from her perch.

"Coming Winnie." Mary waddled over towards her two sisters, joining them around the large, black cauldron. The cauldron gleamed menacingly in the light of the fire. A magic aura seemed to surround it as the contents within bubbled and frothed. "Right away, sorry."

"We don't have much time, sisters. The imp only gave us mere moments to succeed." Moving towards a cupboard, Winifred threw open the doors with a flick of her wrist. An old, weathered, leather book lay atop a pile of magical scarves, each providing a layer of protection. "My darling, my little book…" An eye on the front of the book slowly creaked open at her voice. It stared lazily at her before its vision sharpened. Its pupil grew large and ominous. "Wake up. Wake up, darling!" At the sound of her voice, the book turned its attention to Winifred. "Yes, well come along!"

The book snapped to attention and started to float in the air, the scarves falling away, unlocking their grasp of the ancient text. Free of its protection, the book levitated towards Winifred, landing carefully on a table before her. Her fingers dragged slowly over it, enjoying the feel of the human skin beneath her own decrepit hand. Eyes filled with longing surveyed the still fresh, almost youthful, flesh of the book before returning to her own. Winifred pushed those thoughts away, reminding herself that soon she too would be young and beautiful again.

Only this time, forever.

Immortality. It was one thing to suck the youth from children, but the thought of immortality drove her forward with this scheme. Normally the sisters never sunk to such lows as to mess with the childish imp.

Rumpelstiltskin.

A fraud. A sham. A coward. Too scared to do anything unless he had his useless dagger.

He didn't know what real magic was. While he claimed to be all powerful, the sisters knew even he had limitations. Which was why he needed their help.

"Good morning, my darling book." She again stroked the book with such love and attention even Mary and Sarah grew a little jealous.

"I noticed Sarah isn't helping," Mary whined, throwing a dark look at her fair and beautiful sister. Winifred's attention snapped up towards her two sisters.

"I lured the children," Sarah retorted.

Winifred acted quickly, grabbing Mary by the ear and dragging her away from Sarah. In her absence, Sarah left the children and wandered toward the book, her hand outstretched, ready to just feel the skin of the book. The power seemed to buzz all around it and she could feel it slowly filling her senses the closer she drew.

"Leave her be, she has done her chore," Winifred countered darkly before returning her attention to the book. Sarah recoiled quickly, but not quickly enough. "And what, my dear, were you doing?"

"Nothing sister. You're right, I'm wrong." Sarah knew better than to pick a fight with Winifred.

"All right! 'Tis time." As if it knew what she was talking about, the book opened and flipped itself to a certain page. "Ah, yes. There it is…" Her eyes gave a cursory glance at the words before her attention was returned to the cauldron. "Bring to a full rolling bubble. Add two drops of oil of boil."

Mary acted quickly and handed Winifred the oil of boil.

"I got it. It's heavy, dear sister. You do that, I'll do this." Mary added the oil of boil to the cauldron.

"Six, but the hour with the herb that's red. Turn three times, pluck a hair from thy head." The three sisters did as was told by the spell. "Add a dash of fox and a dead man's toe. Oh! A dead man's toe, and make it a fresh one!"

Sarah quickly grabbed a large bowl of toes as she bounced about the room back towards Winifred.

"Dead man's toe! Dead man's toe!" Sarah's voice came out in a sing-song lilt as she plucked her way through the toes, looking for the best and freshest. Before she could pick one, Mary yanked the bowl away, sticking her tongue out as she brought the bowl towards her nose. Taking a long, deep sniff, she honed in on the freshest one and yanked it from within the bowels of the bowl.

"Fresh one!" Mary tossed the toe into the cauldron. With Winifred's back turned, Mary threw a toe at Sarah, only for Sarah to retaliate. She grabbed a handful and threw them at her sister, ducking behind the child before Mary could attack again.

"Will you two stop that! I need to concentrate and time is running out!"

"Sorry," Mary stated, all the while smiling cockily at Sarah. "She needs to concentrate, sister."

"Newt saliva…" Winifred gave the cauldron a stir with the large wooden ladle and inhaled deeply. "Hah! Sisters gather round. One thing more and all is done. Add a bit of thine own tongue!"

Each sister immediately chomped down on their own tongue and spit it in the cauldron. The large, black pot boiled, bubbled and started to froth. Ripples began to form in the air causing the sisters to cackle.

"Oh Winnie, thou art divine!" Mary gasped as the ripples grew larger. The house and surrounding grounds began to shake and rumble. A fog slowly started to seep from the concoction, however, it quickly filled up the small space and began to filter outside.

In the surrounding villages, the people of the land started to wake from the growing quake. They ran to their windows and watched in dismay as a light seemed to glow ominously from one home. The shaking grew more violent. The animals in the pastures protested, trying to steer clear of the fog that was growing denser with each passing moment. The men of the closest town congregated, knowing they were likely the country's only hope of stopping the sisters. As they grew closer, the light grew brighter and encompassed more space, the shaking grew more violent and the fog became almost impassable.

Inside their little cottage, the three sisters giggled with glee.

"Sisters! The time has come!" Winifred cried gleefully as the world seemed to buzz around them. The cauldron was vibrating violently as a portal began to form within it. It was at that moment they heard a banging at their door. They could hear the men of the local village shouting out for them to come out. "Quickly, before the time escapes us!"

"Open! Witches! Daughters of Darkness! Open this door, now!" One of the local men yelled out as he slammed his fist against the door. When they realized the sisters had no intention of opening, the men began to ram the door with a large tree trunk they had grabbed from the woods nearby.

When they finally broke the door down, the men stared in absolute horror at what lay sprawled before them. The cottage was in shambles. A mighty wind howled as papers flew about. A great vortex swirled angrily in the middle of the small bungalow, seemingly leading to nothing but light. A moment later and the light disappeared, the vortex shrinking into nothingness. The wind slowed to nothingness, the fog receded and the energy from within the cauldron dissipated.

Aside from all of that, the cabin was empty.

Except for a small pig with a necklace tied around its neck, and a young boy laying lifelessly on the floor beside it. 

* * *

Captain Hook stood before the large door in New York City. This was hardly what he had expected.

He was greeted with a building that was clean and impressively tall. It seemed to tower above everything else with gleaming glass covering every inch on the outside. It held a sweeping view above the entire city. A so-called doorman had even acknowledged him by his given name and shown him up upon his arrival, depositing him in a large metal box that seemed to somehow transport him high above the ground and to Swan's door.

He wiped his sweaty palm against his pants and drew in a deep breath. This was it. One year had passed. One, long, arduous year. A year that he had given up everything and everyone so that he could hopefully return to her. He had turned his back on those he had started to befriend. He had languished without her, missing her soft laugh, her shy smile that she saved only for him, the feel of her surrounding him whenever they touched. Only now, suddenly, he wasn't so sure.

Obviously, Emma Swan was doing quite well for herself.

Still, that wasn't enough to stop him. After all, he was still a pirate. And pirates were known for being quite selfish.

And so, he knocked.

* * *

There was a knock. Emma was positive she had heard it, despite the great din of her home.

The cat meowed. The dog barked. The pig oinked. They all scrambled towards the door, each making their respective noises as they grew closer to their target.

Unfortunately, Emma was busy finishing her hair and makeup, so she ignored the racket and continued with her ministrations. Besides, Natasha or Eli would answer the door. Or they would if they weren't too busy playing video games with the kid.

Emma rolled her eyes as she released another curler from her hair. A few moments and curlers later and she was covering her hair with a fine layer of hairspray to help keep the curls that cascaded down her back. She checked her makeup one last time before she headed into her closet to pick out her outfit.

Ensconced by the walls of her walk in, Emma no longer heard the incessant knocking, she did, however, continue to hear the din of the animals as the scratched and whined at the front door.

"Will someone get that!" Emma yelled before continuing further into her favorite room.

While Emma was busy picking out her outfit, Natasha and Eli were battling it out in Mario Kart while they awaited the sitter. Natasha figured it was Chris at the door, though she wondered why he didn't just use his key to let himself in. Maybe he brought pizza!

"He probably lost it, again," Eli giggled as her princess dashed in front of Natasha's Toad. Before she could say more Koopa shoved them aside, rushed in front of them and moved towards the finish line.

"Pizza?" The kid asked as his character easily won the game. He threw his hands up in the excitement and started making sounds as though a crowd was cheering for him. Natasha and Eli looked at him guiltily before restarting the game, this time sans Eli.

"Your babysitter," Eli chimed in as she made her way towards the door. She scooped up the cat and dog and nudged the pig aside. It squealed in disagreement before scrambling back into her path. She fixed it with a hard stare, willing it to move with her mind. It did.

"I don't need a babysitter!" Eli and Natasha laughed as he huffed in anger, which luckily gave Natasha the edge she needed to get Toad in front of Koopa.

"Russell, please." Natasha fixed him with a tough stare before returning her attention to the game. "Besides, it's Chris. You like Chris."

This seemed to placate Russell, a little. His attention back to the game and eye on the prize.

"Did he bring pizza?" Russel asked a moment later as Eli pulled up the doorbell app on her cellphone so she could see who was there. She almost dropped the cat and dog when she spied none other than Killian Jones. Great, now they had two runaways and an assignment to deal with tonight. Totally not what any of them needed right now.

Recently it appeared there were more and more runaways. Maybe there was something in the water. Or people's horoscopes were telling them something. Eli momentarily wondered if she should check her horoscope.

Jareth would not be pleased.

Hopefully, Chris would show up soon.

"Emma!" Eli yelled. She would let her sister deal with this one. After all, Killian did seem to only have eyes, and ears, for Emma. Though, she did wonder what he was doing here. Most runaways didn't exactly come to them. Usually, they had to fight tooth and nail to get them back to their respective realms. What could Killian Jones' possible want, or more importantly, need?

The Jones' brothers were well known for always needing something.

Dropping Binx and Zero on the couch next to Russell, Eli motioned to Natasha to follow her. Throwing her controller down in the middle of the game, thus losing, again, Natasha pushed herself off the couch and towards her sister. She stopped midway and turned back to Russell. Dressed in a buttoned-up pastel pink polo, tan khaki shorts, and a fanny pack, the teen didn't appear like he would be so much trouble, but as Natasha had learned, it was the unassuming that ones that caused the most trouble.

"Don't even think of running." It was said with authority and met with a blank stare. Having chased Russell down through half the city and three states, Natasha knew that stare. The teenager was one of their more frequent escapees. Having completed the same program, she knew all too well the tricks up his sleeve. He was dangerous. More dangerous than herself, most likely. The new children recruits were some of the most cutthroat and devious she had ever met. One day, if they weren't careful, they would be taking over. "Do you understand how many political treaties you'll violate if you move off this couch?"

Once they were back in the hallway leading to the foyer, Eli showed the image of Killian to Natasha, and her sister groaned in frustration.

"Really! What could he possibly want?" Natasha ground out through gritted teeth.

"Get Emma. The fact that he's at our door doesn't bode well for me. Last time we tangoed with him, he was trying to find a bean. Something about greatness for the Jones' brothers." Eli offered as she moved towards the door. Tapping away on her phone, she informed Jareth and the team back at HQ that there was another runaway and they would bring him in with the kid. Only, Killian would return to his life, free to do as he pleased if he stayed within his parameters.

The kid would be a different story. Most likely he'd be returned and brought in for reprogramming. They'd try to break him, just as they tried to do with everyone else in the program.

Throwing open the door, Eli smiled broadly at their unexpected guest.

"Killian! What a pleasure to see you." She ushered him in, noting his confused expression and demeanor. Maybe something had happened. "And what do we owe the pleasure for your sudden appearance?"

"I… ugh, you…" He stumbled through his words as he took in their home. Alarm bells seemed to ring loud and clear in her mind, but she pushed the thought away and guided him further into the large condo. His boots clicked against the expensive marble floors. His hand on her own seemed almost wooden and stiff. However, he soon seemed to regain his composure and his attention turned sharp and attuned to his surroundings. He yanked his arm from her own and took a step back. "Where's Emma?"

At the sound of her name, Emma and Natasha seemed to materialize from the depths of the condo, her sky-high heels clicking artfully against the cool, white marble. The tiny black dress hugged her body tightly, contouring to her every curve and leaving little to the imagination. It was their normal uniform when it came to attracting males, and some females, that had somehow jumped realms.

It was also her chosen dress for seeing John. Something told Eli that they should not be expecting Emma back later that evening.

"Killian," Emma said in a singsong voice, her lips curling into a carefully practiced smile. She stepped forward and kissed his cheek. Her painted ruby red lips left an imprint on his cheek. She pretended to try and smudge it away but did little in accomplishing the act. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

He seemed dazed and unsure of the situation. This was not the typical cocky Killian Jones. It seemed without his brother and whore by his side he lost some of his bravadoes.

The hairs on the back of his neck were raised to their maximum height and his hackles were up. Something wasn't right. In fact, something was very wrong.

This Emma was too perfect. Too polished. She seemed poised and confident beyond his grasp.

And she seemed to remember him, in some capacity or another.

He watched as she and the other women busied about, getting ready to go out for the night. They told him he would be staying with Russell, and someone named Chris, for the night until they returned. When he had first caught sight of the young lad he had thought it was Henry, but once he turned around, Killian was once again thrown into confusion by the young Asian child.

Russell, appeared unassuming enough, and not very threatening, though the women seemed to feel differently. There were always someone's eyes on the child.

He and Russell were sitting on the couch playing something called an X-Box. Rather, he was attempting to play. His prosthetic hand was making it near impossible. So far no one had made a reference to it, though one of the women, Natasha if he remembered correctly, had given it a passing glance.

"What happened?" Killian jolted slightly from the sudden conversation. He stared at Russell for a moment, unsure of what to say. He was out of his element and beyond confused. Emma wasn't supposed to remember him. Who were these other people? And where was Henry? Russell motioned to Killian's disfigured hand, not even losing sight of the game playing out on the television before him.

"Pardon?" Killian finally answered. He wasn't sure how to answer; he didn't know his place in this world. No one had called him by his more colorful moniker, yet.

"Your hand. It's lame." Russel laughed, smartly. A moment later and he was jumping up and proclaiming victory. Killian sat there in silence. No one had ever been so cheeky with him. "Why are you here? Dropping right into the dragon's lair."

"Dragon's lair?" Now he was more confused than ever. What was Russell alluding to? Was this Emma dangerous? Had someone somehow gotten to her? A new curse on top of the old one?

Russell stared at Killian quizzically. A moment passed before his gaze fell. He appeared thoughtful and then smiled. His voice fell to a near whisper.

"Right, well, seems like we are in this together. Wait till they leave and then we are off."

"Off?" Where were they going? Should he really trust this child? Before he could give it much more thought, Emma, Eli, and Natasha appeared. All three were wearing tight, body-hugging dresses. The ladies barely spared the two interlopers a glance as the three ladies peered into the hallway mirror, checking themselves for any imperfections. At the same moment, a knock on the door before it was thrown open.

"We'll be back later tonight. Chris is in charge. Don't leave." Natasha's statement left no room for discussion. A tall, light-haired, friendly looking man appeared carrying a large box of pizza and smiled warmly at Russell, though his smile faltered at the sight of Killian. His smile returned a moment later. And then the women were gone.

"Killian, what are you doing here?"

"I think that's the million-dollar question," Russell chimed in, a smirk plastered on his face and eyes glinting in the expensive light of the condo.


	2. Chapter 2

**Ch. 2**

They forgot, you see. It was easy to forget. Easy to look into those glossy button eyes and listen to the high-pitched voice.

He let them forget.

One by one they fell. Tarzan first. Useless. Jasmine shoved a lamp into his eye. She didn't last much longer. Zazu pecked her eyes and heart out.

Elsa lasted longer than most ever expected. The ice queen used her powers to fashion a weapon when none were to be had. By the end, Elsa was known as the queen dressed in red.

But he was different.

He was quiet. Polite. Willing to help. Giggled when appropriate.

They all forgot he was a bear. Until he killed them.

Only two thoughts remained in his mind. Someday he'd find his dear friend, and the creators, they had to pay.

Until then, honey rained down from the sky bringing the sweet taste of victory only tempered a small bit by the taste of blood.

* * *

The ship sliced through the calm waters; calmer than the storm that ravaged in his mind and heart. The sails lunged forward in the soft breeze.

"Captain, orders?" The crew looked to the young captain, younger than them in this land of odd time, as he stared forlornly out at the sea. She was supposed to be his fair mistress, but so far all she had brought him was anger and solitude.

When he had taken over the ship he had expected to find what he was looking for quickly and easily. His mentor has informed him the sea would provide him with the answer he so dearly sought.

Years later and he was no closer. The roots of his brown hair were graying. His amber eyes, once so young and filled with light were now lifeless, sunken in and hollow. His honey skin tanned and sagging from the decades out at sea under the harsh sun and salty air. Muscles rippled under his shirt. He was almost sixty, and yet somehow it had only felt like mere moments had passed.

Edmund had called him back to the castle numerous times, but he couldn't give up his search. Not yet. Too much was at stake.

Besides, he had done too much, seen even more. The darkness in his heart had become all-consuming. Some called him a monster; he had heard the crew state as much when they thought he wasn't nearby. And he did love to fight, almost as much as he loved to kill. Yet, over the years, he had killed less and less as the need diminished. Strange, the world thought him a monster, yet he yearned for love so passionately.

The Revenge creaked beneath him. The ancient wood fought against the sea, propelling itself forward. Behind them, the Dawn Treader followed. The two ships sailing into further uncertainty.

For decades, they had been searching. The prophet only supplying one piece of information.

"Stay the course; find the light," he finally barked out. He turned on his heels and left, leaving his crew cold and alone, just like his heart and soul.

* * *

The long, browned wheat swept softly against her legs in the light breeze. The low evening sun still left her skin warm. The breeze almost smelt sweet, like candy. The tree at her back scraped at her tender skin, it's long branches providing shade in the late afternoon sun. It wasn't very warm, but the shade was appreciated.

If only to remind her of the world she knew.

She stared down at the worn picture in her hand.

Henry.

She worried about him every day for the last year. She wondered where he was.

Before she could give it much more thought, a helicopter passed overhead. Then ten more. The sound of boots tromping towards her made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She could sense a gun trained on her from a distance, most likely a sniper ready to lay her to waste should she try to escape.

Not that she could go far, the tracking device implanted in her would always tell them where she was.

The cocking of a gun at her side left little else in her mind.

It was time.

"Tributes, t-minus sixty seconds until departure."

The voice boomed over the loudspeakers, placed strategically throughout the lands.

Hefting her pack, she got up and headed to the transporter. Her jeans, t-shirt and red leather jacket did little cover her in the coming elements, but the creators were sick and twisted; they insisted tributes only got what they knew. The large whirling machines lit up brighter with each revolution. At the edge of her platform, another woman stood waiting. Her long, red hair whirled around her in the wind. Her prosthetic arm pushed it back in place.

A mutual nod passed between their grim faces as they loaded into the machine that would likely bring them to their death. The woman's fake legs creaked and scrapped the metal as the guards locked and loaded them. She was a patchwork of prosthetic limbs, bits, and pieces that she was able to compile together to create a whole.

It wasn't until they were alone that she finally spoke.

"We won't fail." The woman spoke softly, both hoping there were no listening devices. The creators were sick that way. "You know what you've got to do, Emma."

Emma merely nodded, her face stoic. Their packs lay at their feet.

The doors to the machine slid shut, the glass providing them with one last view of the world they knew. Guards moved in front of the doors, ensuring they couldn't escape. There was never any escaping. Not in this world.

One year. One, long, arduous year of searching and wanting answers that weren't to be hers. A year that would ultimately bring both of their deaths, of that much Emma was sure. No matter the training. No matter the secret meetings.

"Emma…" The woman reached her mechanical arm out toward her new-found friend. Emma reached back. The tips of their fingers just touching despite the restraints.

"Sally…" The machine whirred and swirled, lights blinking as the power strengthened.

"T-minus ten, nine, eight…"

"We'll beat this," Sally started but was cut off by the voice booming overhead.

"Seven, six, five…"

"We'll find him," Sally continued, her voice hardening; she always was the stronger one, Emma was glad she had met her. The machine shook with a raising force, making her voice shake with it.

"Four, three, two…"

"You'll free us from their tyranny." Her words were spoken with such conviction and a vengeance, Emma almost believed her friend. Almost. "You have a destiny, as do I."

"One."

The machine bored downwards, shooting down into the hardened earth like it was a hot knife slicing through butter. Their transporter shook violently for only a few moments before coming to an abrupt halt. Their locked safety harnesses released and the door slid open, revealing their new environment.

Overhead, the creator's silly sing-song voices taunted them, yet again.

"Welcome to the games, ha-ha, may the odds be ever in your favor."

* * *

"Come on! Follow me! We only have a few minutes if we are going to make it!"

They were running. He wasn't even sure how he was in this position. One moment they were sitting, eating pizza and playing that infernal Xbox, the next, they were off.

Chris had gone to the bathroom.

Now he was chasing after them.

Killian tried to tell himself that he was following Russell because if he didn't, Emma would have more work. But, in the back of his mind, Killian knew he was following the young lad because he believed him to have answers.

The child was a true wonder when it came to running. He darted to and fro, pulling Killian into dark alleyways, jumping over cars, and weaving in and out of traffic. The lights and sounds of the city whizzed by them at a dizzying pace.

"Goddammit, Russell! Killian! Get back here!" Chris shrieked over the loud din of the city.

Still, Killian wondered where exactly where they were going. Why were they running?

A bridge was just ahead. Darkness lay beneath.

"Russell…" Killian's voice wavered as they drew closer to the bridge. There was nowhere else to turn. Nowhere else to go. Everything was moving too quickly.

"We're hitching a ride! Otherwise, we're all done for," Russell rambled.

Chris was far behind, but gaining on them quickly. He held something that looked like a gun in his hand, trained squarely on them. Only this gun looked different then the one's Killian had seen back in Storybrooke.

"Don't even think of it, Russell!" Chris screamed as Russell and Killian careened into the side railing of the bridge.

"Do you trust me?" Killian's head jolted upwards at the young teen's question. His hair whipped about in the strong breeze. They didn't have long. "I don't know who you are, but you aren't Killian Jones. And the woman you met today is not Emma! If you want to find the truth, you need to trust me." And Killian's unsure gaze, Russel threw up his hand. "Scout's honor!"

Russell grabbed for Killian's hand, his small fingers closing tightly around them. A small ring on his finger lit up, sending out a bright light high into the sky.

"Do you have your towel?" Killian's head jerked up at Russell's question. It was the one thing the lad had made Killian take with him from the condo.

Behind them, a whirring sound as the gun pointed at them came to life. A light shone brightly from the center, pulsating as the energy from within it grew stronger. The phaser warming as Chris steadied his shot.

"Russell! Watch that ledge!" Chris wheezed out. He had the gun trained on the two escapees, ready to fire. HQ would be pissed, but they would be just as angry if they jumped realms, again. His finger on the trigger, Chris readied himself. He liked Russell. HQ had high hopes for the young boy. But he had a rebellious streak. The best usually did. "We can talk this out. I won't even tell them that you tried to leave tonight if we can just go back to the condo right now."

Grabbing hold of his wrist, Russell yanked Killian over the side of the bridge with him, the phaser whizzing off as their bodies flew over the ledge. It just missed them, hitting one of the truss members instead. The bridge squealed in protest.

Killian yelled in objection as they fell. Russell held on even tighter.

And then everything went black.

* * *

Her lithe body swayed to the beat, rubbing tantalizingly against her partner's. His hand tightened on her hip, pulling her just a tiny bit closer if that was even possible. Her chest heaved as his calloused hand dragged up her body, his lips whispering kisses against her neck.

They were finally alone. She had waited all night for these few moments with him. Hopefully, he had waited too. She never could tell when it came to him. Sure, she could feel his need for her, but he rarely said anything. Never begged and pleaded for her like she did with him. Never called.

What else could she do to get his attention? Why didn't anyone ever love her as much as she tried to love them?

The sound of her zipper brought her back to the present. Her dress pooled at her feet.

A moment later and he was depositing her on the cold Italian marble counter. She shivered. Her hands wandered over the expanse of his chiseled chest. She tried to kiss him, his lips, but he refused. He always did.

It was how Emma knew she didn't fully have his attention, no matter how desperately she wanted it. It never mattered what she did, he was always five steps ahead of her.

Jareth had tried to warn her. Had told her time after time that she wasn't to mess around with him. Maybe it was the idea of rebelling that drew her closer. Maybe it was his withholding of the love that made her want him even more.

She gasped a moment later. Her body yielded to his.

"John…" Her voice sounded raspier than usual.

He was being rough tonight. Her nails scraped down his back, sure to leave marks.

Of course, that was when her phone decided to blare to life. She tried to ignore it, to let it go the voicemail. Only it kept ringing.

Jareth.

Her bedmate, or counter-mate, pulled away. His eyes didn't even meet hers as he started to walk away, obviously still hard and not even close to being finished. He walked towards the shower as Emma moved to answer her phone.

She didn't even get a chance to speak before she heard her superior yelling through the phone. As she was filled in on the events of the night she couldn't help but shake her head. Of course, the kid would escape. It's what he was best at.

She had known the arrival of Killian hadn't been a coincidence. Something was about to happen, and she'd be damned if she let them get away with anything.

"I'll be right there."

She didn't even say goodbye, merely put her dress back on, cleaned herself up with a rag by the kitchen sink, and jetted out.

She had two jumpers to catch.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

Space and the universe to be more precise is big. Beyond big. Huge.

"I am pleased to inform you that we have reached normality!" The overly cheery computer chirped throughout the ship. Arthur stared down at the complex lights and buttons before returning his gaze to the large display before him. Stars, planets, and the universe laid bare before him.

One moment they had been heading towards a small restaurant on the other side of the universe to celebrate his re-election and maybe find Merlin, and the next thing he knew they were in a completely new sector, Alpha D, plural 7G—where was that even? They had been following a lead and had been so close! Allegedly, by multiple accounts, Merlin was there.

However, right as they had pulled in, ready to disembark, their ship had pulled away and engaged the Hyperspace drive, causing them to shoot across the universe. Now Arthur had absolutely no idea where they were.

"Ford, we have a problem."

Arthur's best friend, and hero if he was honest, turned from the bar he was sitting at. He had been enthralled in a game of Bejeweled. Ford couldn't get over all the neat games earthlings had created to squander their time.

"Pardon?" Taran asked, joining the conversation.

"A problem," Arthur repeated. "Did either of you push the hyperspace drive button?"

"You know I don't fool around with those pesky buttons." Ford fixed Arthur with a lopsided grin. "Wait, I thought we were getting rocky moon rings?" At Arthur's displeased stare, Ford quickly refocused. "And finding Merlin, of course."

"We were. Only something caused us to…" Arthur stopped midsentence as he stared at the computer.

Hitchhikers.

"Did you pick up hitchhikers?" Arthur asked his two shipmates.

Ford looked on in confusion, answering his friend's question. Taran joined Arthur at the deck of the ship, staring at the computer.

"No, but it looks like we did."

* * *

"Time is an illusion. The universe you knew, doubly so."

Killian chuckled. Full on giggled, if he was being truthful. He didn't know what else to do. He and Russell were in the middle of a bright, white room. It was warm but sterile. There were no windows or doors. In fact, Killian wasn't even sure how they had even arrived.

One moment they had been running from Chris, ready to jump off a bridge.

No, they had jumped off a bridge. That much Killian was sure of.

And now they were somewhere else.

Maybe they had died, and this was death. Not heaven, nor hell. Just a sterile nothingness.

Killian guessed that was what he deserved.

Russell didn't seem quite as perturbed. He was smiling and checking out some little metal rectangle in his hand that seemed to light up when the top popped open. It whirled and beeped and buzzed for a moment before quieting down and sliding shut. This only served to make Russell smile a little wider.

"Don't look so worried, we are exactly where we should be." Russell clapped Killian on the back and then started moving about the room. He tapped on one wall and then another. "We just need to figure a way out."

His smile faltered for a mere moment.

But it was replaced a moment later as Russell fished something from his pockets.

"Don't panic. Just read this. It will explain everything." Russell handed Killian a small, metal book. It beeped and lit up when his hands came in contact with it. On the front, in large print, was exactly that which Russell had just told him. Don't Panic. When he opened it, a screen lit up, and text moved across it.

"Now, a way out…"

As if hearing their request, a wall suddenly slid open. A moment later and two men walked through. Killian immediately jumped into position, ready to defend himself and his new travel mate. Russell, at first acted in the same manner, but quickly dropped his defensive stance upon seeing who his alleged foe was.

"Russell?"

"King Arthur!"

* * *

The jail cell was cold. She complained all the time, but no one ever listened. No visitors. No daylight. No exercise except for the ropes she hung from the top of the enclosed cell. She had created the ropes from the skin she had ripped from the guard that stupidly thought she was nothing but a helpless little girl.

Helpless.

This made her giggle.

She was still human, after all. A living, breathing creature. Her heartbeat- she could hear it now, like thunder in her ears. Her hearing was amazingly sensitive, as was her sight. She could hear a leaf breaking off a branch from miles away, and she could see the craters of the seven moons without the aid of binoculars or telescope. As she had aged, her senses had only grown stronger.

Even better was her immune system. She could be stabbed with a knife and heal within minutes.

Her strength was unmeasurable. Her reflexes better than a cat. There was not a system of physical attack or defense that she could not master in mere moments. The last time they tested her she had destroyed the 88 soldiers they had sent at her in minutes. They had begged her to stop, in return, she told them to beg better.

She still remembered with startling clarity when the guard had stupidly entered her cell, teasing her and saying he could touch her any way he wanted. That she was his prisoner.

A moment later and suddenly he knew why his superiors had told him never to enter alone. Suddenly he knew all the horror stories he had been told as a boy were completely true. He remembered that the real monsters were those who looked so small and cute. It was always the small and meek one should worry about the most—a lion might roar, but it was the mosquito that was the most dangerous.

He had reached for his gun, but he was too slow. Much too slow when it came to her.

She had shoved herself out from her corner in the cell with such force that she was momentarily airborne. Not that the guard saw anything but a blur flying toward him. Her foot lashed out and her heel caught him in the center of his sternum. She heard the bones cracking as he fell in a heap to the ground, his weapon laying just as lifelessly beside him. He gasped for breath as blood curdled from his mouth, which only made her smile wider.

She had crushed his chest wall, the intercostal muscles, and thoracic cage separating, causing his respiratory system to stop working properly. He was having a hard time breathing as he was drowning in his own blood. Watching the blood gurgling from his mouth, she was tempted to sate her thirst and drink from his lips. But she stopped herself and left him alone.

As he had laid there dying, she had knelt beside him, her hand on his head as she whispered words of love. Love often flowed through her when she killed.

Before they took him from her, she stripped him of his skin, letting it serve as a reminder of who was really in charge. Who the real prisoner was.

After that incident, they upped her security. An additional cell wrapped around her current cell. Electric bars. Barbed wire. No clothes except for a simple tank top and some underwear. Guards posted at each corner of the room, twenty-four hours seven days a week. Cameras and audio. Three control rooms. They only ever let her out to torture her and test her.

Now when they visited her they made her stand in the center of the cell. Loud sirens would ring out informing her of their impending arrival. A group of twenty or more soldiers would enter together, surrounding her from every angle.

She always tried to entice them. She knew the male guards liked looking at her body. Who wouldn't enjoy looking; she was a nubile teen with a body of a goddess. Her hair was brown and soft as silk. Her large, wide brown eyes appeared as innocent as she looked. Her stature was slight by Earth standards, but her arms and legs were muscled.

She just wanted to play.

Why wouldn't anyone let her play?

They called her the princess of the dead. A queen most likely, if only she could get out.

They had stolen her away when she was but a child, merely three or four years old. She couldn't remember just how old she was anymore. She aged so differently from everyone else. A hundred years meant nothing to her. But she did remember that she had always dreamed of the human world. She longed for the blue skies, soft breeze, and sunshine. Everything that would never be hers. And they had used that against her.

Tempting her away from her keepers, she found freedom in the human world. The sunlight blinded her, erasing her memory and confusing her. That's when they struck. Stealing her away from everything she ever knew, and taking everything she ever wanted.

At first, she hadn't remembered. But years in a lonely cell and electroshock therapy helped her.

Not that she told them.

Now she belonged to them. At least that's what they believed.

It was only a matter of time before she would strike.

* * *

The list of rules grew longer every day.

Rule One: never go near a stream deeper than three feet.

Emma grit her teeth and remembered: the flash of red hair, the whirlpool death-roll, and the sight of Aurora disappearing under carmine bubbles. She and Sally had tried to save her. They had tried to save a lot of people, but some people didn't seem as open to the idea of working together. Of defeating the true enemy.

Emma shuddered.

Rule Two: Hear songs and echoes, _run_.

 _I'm wishing—I'm wishing—for the ones I hate_

 _to find me—to find me—tonight…_

 _I'm hoping—I'm hoping—_

 _And I'm dreaming of_

 _The cruel ways,_

 _in which they…_

 _will die._

The stampeding horde of wild beasts left only blood and pounded mud where there once was Simba. In the end, he closed his eyes and lifted his head like a king, the lion's pride as strong as his father's.

Rule Three: see a tree clawed by bears, leave that forest and never return.

Sally had told her how Winnie had won the last games, how the creators now loved adding bears. Cute, cuddly, deathly gruesome bears with button eyes and a pension for honey-flavored blood.

This world was so much worse than any curse Regina, Rumple, or Pan could ever create.

Pocahontas was found with three arrows through the heart and two through the eyes, with evidence of a mauling by what looked to be three bear cubs. Stepping under the shadow of a tree with that archer on watch meant instant death and a grave in the guts of her beasts.

Rules upon rules upon rules. Unnaturally cold? Run. Heavy footfalls of a Greek god? _Run._ The blood-curdling war cry of the cowboy that controlled dinosaurs? _RUN!_

Thankfully, if there was one thing Emma and Sally could do well, it was running.

* * *

"What do you mean they got away?" Jareth bellowed at his subordinates.

Emma, Eli, Chris and Natasha stared straight ahead, unmoving as their superior threw yet another temper tantrum.

A crystal ball whizzed toward them, ready to shatter against the wall, but Emma stopped it with her powers, causing it to freeze in front of them before dropping to the ground with a soft thud.

Sometimes she liked to remind Jareth of how much power she held over him.

"Cute." Jareth fixed her with a withering glare. "Maybe if you hadn't been spreading your legs like a common whore, those two would still be here instead of god knows where!"

Emma shrank back. She didn't know how he knew where she had been. Maybe he was checking up on her as much as he checked up on everyone else.

"Find them and bring them back here." Jareth paused for a moment. Thinking. Contemplating. "Make sure Russell is alive. I don't care what happens to that bothersome Jones' brother."

At that, a smile broke across Emma's face. She would be all too happy to finally repay Killian Jones. Now she could hurt him as much as he had hurt her.

* * *

"I sense her. She's somewhere close."

Sally's eyes flashed open and Emma nearly fell free from her tree-top hammock. There was a shuffling of people far below.

"Are you sure it isn't some echo? How can you trust what your senses are telling you… in a place as confusing as this?"

"I can feel her power, like a blade cutting through the fog."

 _They were looking for them._

Emma's heart clacked up to her throat and she swallowed it down, slowly creeping from her hammock.

"Did you hear that?"

The two held perfectly still. The sweat beaded on Emma's face. Sally never perspired. Emma assumed it was due to her patchwork body.

"There's so much life here. I cannot tell the life apart from life. She could be hiding anywhere…"

Life from life. Emma and Sally could hide in the trees, among the animals. They just needed to be quiet, and maybe they could…

There was a tap on Sally's shoulder.

"Hey there."

"Ah!" Sally screamed, causing Emma to jump as well, and they went tumbling out of the branches. Sally grabbed hold of a twig, breaking it in her fake hands, and then hurtling towards the ground faster than Genie could snap a wish come true.

This was it. They'd had enough close calls in the past to know when it was time to pack it in, and in that crystal moment from branch to the ground Emma sent out her undying love for Henry, Killian and her family, and accepted that her soul would leave her, as her body smashed into the ground.

She opened her eyes when it didn't come. Instead, she and Sally were floating.

Emma had seen many strange things on this battlefield, but this was by far the strangest. Two women in pale tunics, with palms up and eyes caught in serene meditation.

"Don't be afraid of us."

And in that moment, she wasn't. Sally held a different opinion. Her arm came free, a machine gun materializing in its place. Ready and waiting, as she always was. From above, a figure leaped the ten stories to the ground as if it were a hop over a pond, landing without a sound.

One of the women stepped closer. "Can you feel it…?"

Invisible tendrils pulled at Emma and Sally's bodies, and they grew from their hearts to theirs in brilliant blooming branches that bound them all together.

"I can feel _something,_ " Sally said. Amazement blossomed from her face as the small group strengthened with each other's energies.

"You're special, like us." The girl from the tree was speaking now. "You can feel the Force."


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 4

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall…" Her long, well-manicured fingernails traced along the expensive gold mirror. Her blank stare bore no feelings or emotions. She was ready for war. Ready to finally get the revenge she so duly deserved.

"Show me where the one Killian Jones falls…" The mirror, which at first had merely reflected her image now started to turn ashen before fogging over. It swirled and sparked to life, following the directions it had been given.

A moment later and the image of Killian Jones appeared. He stood on a ship beside his brother.

And his whore.

"Interesting," Emma muttered. According to Chris, Killian and Russell had jumped realms, potentially even hitchhiking. Yet according to the mirror, he was exactly where he should be. Maybe Chris had been wrong.

Or maybe Chris was working with the other side and was merely trying to keep them from finding Russell sooner rather than later.

It looked like it was time to pay the dear Jones' brothers a visit.

* * *

It was like waking up for the first time.

The three of them sat Emma and Sally down and told Emma how to erase herself. Not that she knew what that even meant. They said to feel as if the doors to the world were opening inside her head. That was a picture Emma could hold onto.

She thought of the door, buried in the sand of her thoughts and memories, made of huge and ancient stone, larger than anything she had ever known, waiting for the right words, the right key.

 _Open Sesame, Open Sesame, Open Sesame!_

And she felt it.

Light poured in through the door and she could feel that life, that joy, that brilliance. She could trace their rays from face to face, from the trees, from the ground under her feet. Lovely, living, breathing _life._ It was a gulp of cool water, a breeze of fresh air, the feel of salty sea air on her face, and it was spinning a web between her and all that she knew to exist—and beyond.

Emma opened her eyes to see three knowing smiles. Sally stood off to the side, machine gun at ready to defend them from any enemies.

"Who are you?"

"We are the saviors of the worlds," they said, expecting her to take some meaning from that. "We disappeared from our worlds and awoke on this planet, a part of this horrid game. A ploy by the creators to destroy us before we could destroy them. All three of us sensed a master here, and we joined together to seek one out. Then we found… you."

"My name is Moana." The young girl that had leaped from the tree extended a hand. "Envy of the Earth."

"I'm Merlin." A young woman about Emma's age spoke softly. Her face was half hidden by her cloak. "Glutton for magic."

"Call me Tia." The other woman finally spoke. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back, glittering in the light of the unnatural world. Her features were pointed and perfect. She held an etherealness that was as unnatural as the world surrounding them. "Lusted by all."

"What am I?" Emma queried.

"Wrath of the worlds," Merlin answered after a moment. "The master of all saviors, and holder of divine destiny."

"How many are there of us?"

"Seven."

"Where are the others?" The question was innocent enough and Emma could only hope the answer would be a simple one.

"We don't know," Tia spoke in a mere whisper, her eyes glancing around to ensure their privacy. "We don't think the creators meant to put the four of us together."

Emma gently nudged them through the web of life, sending golden ripples with her soul. "What is this?"

"It's the Force!" Moana expelled excitedly. "A field that comes out of all life, connecting us. Bonding us."

It felt like the first time Emma held Henry in her arms. "It's love, then?"

"In a manner of speaking." Merlin lifted a rock without touching it. "And it is also a living thing, with its own wills, and its own powers. We can teach you, you know."

"Teach me?"

Moana shrugged. "Well, we're just students ourselves, but there are no better lessons than in the act of teaching, I think!"

Emma pulsed a will for the soil to lift around her feet, and it came up in a black cloud. Her eyes connected with Sally's, who gave a quick nod of agreement.

"Teach me."

* * *

Killian was positive that he had now seen it all. He was in space. On a spaceship. With King Arthur and an alien named Ford. Not that Ford looked anything like an alien. Though, Killian had only just learned of the existence of aliens. And space.

It was a very confusing day.

Though Russell seemed to be in his element.

Plans were being made. They were to find Merlin, who was supposed to help them locate the others, including the real Emma, that would ultimately help destroy the creators and bring this whole mess to a stop.

Not that Killian knew who the creators were. He attempted to ask, but the answer was too dizzying and complex for him to understand. They had told him to ask the book. That didn't make things any simpler. It talked about some computer and finding the great question. And the number 42 even popped up.

What in the devil did 42 have to do with anything?

So now he stood off to the side while Russell, Arthur, and Ford discussed the best way to get back to the other edge of the universe. The simple thought made Killian's brain spin.

He was a mere pirate from the Enchanted Forest. Now he was hanging out with the king of the Universe, trying to locate the creators of all worlds.

Were they speaking of the God's above?

Not that Killian was a particularly religious man.

"Maybe we should grab Ofelia." The suggestion was met with silence. Taran blanched. Arthur and Ford stared blankly at Russell as though he were crazy. "She can help! And she'll keep us safe."

"Break into HQ? And risk dealing with Jareth?" The question was laced with mockery. "All for some hybrid that will turn on us at the flip of a hat? Or worse. I'd rather deal with John! Maybe the Black Knight and his infinite stupidity."

Ford nodded his head in agreement.

"Computer, locate Ofelia!"

"No, computer! Don't!"

"No problem!" Beeps, whirling and swooshing followed the lights on the ship lit up brightly in the spacious cabin. "I'm happy to announce I have found Ofelia. Would you like to head her way?"

Killian watched as an image appeared on the large screen of a teenage girl. She was swinging from ropes in a large-ish jail cell. Guards surrounded her numerous cells.

She was what they were so worried about? The young lass couldn't be much older than 15 or 16. And how could she possibly help?

Before Arthur, Taran or Ford could object, Russell confirmed to the ship's computer to indeed head towards Ofelia.

"Don't worry, I have a plan."

* * *

The sea was calm, the sails blowing softly in the breeze.

She watched from a distance as the ships drew closer and closer, curious to see what was about to play out. She had been ready to visit the Jones' brothers when she had caught sight of the Revenge and the Dawn Treader inching ever closer to the Jewel. What could the Dread Pirate Roberts possibly want with the Liam and Killian Jones?

Throwing her hand out, Emma sent a blast of energy toward the general area of the ships, wrapping them in magic so that she would be able to hear and see everything while remaining in her bubble of safety and secrecy.

It was always better to have the upper hand.

The Jewel reacted as she expected, hoisting its pirate flag and readying its canons, however, the Revenge was a better ship, able to quickly maneuver around, while the Dawn Treader came from the rear, locking the poor Jewel in without a way to properly fight. It was over before it even started.

* * *

"Captain, ships!" Smee's voice rang out as he pointed towards two ships off the starboard side. Liam pulled his spyglass for a better look while Killian moved towards the rail. Two, large, well-equipped ships were headed right for them. They could try to outrun them, but the brothers knew the ships were too close and coming in too fast.

"Milah, go to my quarters, now!" Killian bellowed. He knew any pirate would be interested in obtaining a female companion.

"The Revenge and Dawn Treader," Liam informed his brother. The two paled. The stories of the fearsome captain were well known to all. Not many lived to speak of an encounter.

Killian and Liam Jones' watched on, weapons at ready, along with their crew, as a plank was lowered between the Revenge and the Jewel.

The elder captain of the Revenge crossed slowly, taking his time as he surveyed the ship. The runes had informed him that the light was close, and the only thing remotely close was the shabby pirate ship manned by Killian and Liam Jones. He had heard of the two privateers that flew a pirate flag after turning their backs on their royal leader.

"Welcome aboard, Captain," Liam spoke first, bowing before the elder captain. He had aged well. Killian smiled as the boarding party stepped onto the deck. They had moored themselves to their ship, while the other vessel floated nearby, gun ports open. The threat was clear. They were outflanked, outnumbered, and outmanned.

"Captain Roberts," the elder captain introduced himself.

"Captain Liam Jones, and my first mate, and brother, Killian Jones," Liam answered swiftly. "Is there a problem?"

The Jones brothers were the picture of cool indifference, but on the inside, they were both freaking out. A visit from the Dread Pirate Roberts never ended well.

Roberts surveyed the ship, flicking his eyes over the crew, looking up and down the deck, before returning his attention to the brothers. "Who owns this ship?"

"It is a private vessel," Liam answered.

"Where are you heading?"

"For port. We are looking for work. Hopefully, someone has cargo to transport." Liam answered coolly.

Captain Roberts surveyed the brothers once more, his hand on his sword.

"What of the light? Have you seen it?"

The Jones brother looked at each other quizzically. They hadn't the faintest clue what the pirate captain spoke of. Maybe he had lost his mind at his advanced age.

"Light?"

Captain Roberts turned in a slow circle, surveying the area once again before pulling the runes from his jacket pocket. He tossed them in the air, the question breezing past his lips as they slowly fell into his open palm.

Again, they fell face up.

"I'm going to ask you again, where do you keep the light?" Captain Robert's voice grew low and dangerous.

"We don't know what light you speak of!" Liam insisted.

Captain Roberts huffed in frustration before drawing his sword and moving quickly, slicing through Liam's stomach. He withdrew his dagger.

"Try again." Liam slid to the ground, hands to his stomach as blood started gurgling out. There was a skirmish as the various crews attempted to fight, but Robert's men were quicker, disabling the Jewel's crew with ease.

"We know nothing! We haven't seen a light!" Liam implored, his breath coming out in gasps as Killian stood at his side, sword at ready. Killian wanted to help his brother, but he suspected he wouldn't survive if he did.

"Please, we know not what you speak of, but we will gladly help you!" Killian beseeched. This made the captain pause. His eyes mere slits as he surveyed the younger Jones.

He turned his back to the two brothers, ignoring the gasps from the elder Jones. Rubbing his large ruby ring, Roberts watched as the image of Edmund slowly filled the ruby.

"Have you found it?" Edmund sounded flustered. He was growing older with each passing day. Faster than Roberts was aging.

"No, I'm in the middle of the ocean aboard the Jewel and the light is nowhere to be found."

"Did you use the runes?"

"Of course, and now they are spouting off gibberish!" Roberts sighed in frustration. He watched as Edmund brought their mage forth, calling on him to find the light's location.

"It's close! Stay nearby, it is making its way to you!" Edmund stated excitedly. "Prepare yourself. The light has grown brighter, stronger. It is learning to harness its power and has become distrustful. Use the Jewel to lure it in."

A moment later and Edmund was gone. Roberts turned back to the Jones brothers, a smile upon his lips. Liam lay bleeding out on the floor while Killian stood by his side, pale and shaking.

"If you and your crew wish to live, you will help me."

* * *

"We need Lancelot, and Patsy," Arthur insisted, as they neared the planet called Earth, and more precisely, HQ.

"Where are they?" Russell asked as he studied a map of the interior of the dungeons. He knew how to get there, he just didn't know how to get to Ofelia.

Ford and Arthur exchanged a look. Taran sighed.

"They seek the holy grail!" Ford groaned and rolled his eyes as Arthur explained further. Sometimes Ford wasn't sure about Arthur. Taran suppressed a giggle.

"They are at the Cave of Caerbannog where they seek the aide of Pete and Elliot, but it is protected. They are fighting off the most fearsome beast. A creature so vicious no man yet has fought with it and lived. With nasty, big pointy teeth!" Arthur brought his fingers up to his mouth, imitating the creature he spoke of.

"What an eccentric description," Killian deadpanned. Russell laughed, as did Ford, but Arthur merely scoffed.

"It's a rabbit," Taran supplied. This caused Russell and Ford to laugh harder.

"You silly git, afraid of a rabbit?" Killian asked.

"It's no ordinary rabbit. It's the foulest, cruel, and bad-tempered rodent you'll ever set eyes on." Arthur explained. "It's got a vicious streak a mile wide! It's a killer!"

Russell, Taran, and Ford dissolved into a fit of laughter as Arthur huffed in response.

And once again, Killian found himself wondering just what he had gotten into.

"We don't have time to get Lancelot and Patsy. We're already almost to HQ. We can't waste any more time!" Russell finally insisted.

"That's not true, computer!"

And in the next moment, they were zipping across the earth, headed for the cave of Caerbannog, looking for Lancelot and Patsy, and potentially fighting against the most fearsome rabbit to ever live.


End file.
